(N)Everland
by Rabbit Jane White
Summary: Neverland is crumbling, Peter is missing, and it's up to Wendy and Hook to find out why.
1. Chapter 1

Night rolled over London and smothered the sky with a blanket of stars and space. So much space that Wendy had yet to experience. Tonight, like many nights before, Wendy sat in the window seat in her old nursery, legs drawn to her chest and eyes gazing over the river Thames. The peaceful silence calmed Wendy's mind as she replayed the conversation she had with her father earlier on in the day:

"_And just what exactly is wrong with Charles?" Mr. Darling snapped. He drummed his fingers on the table and tried to keep his anger in check. Sir Charles Lumley wasn't the first of many fine suitors his daughter had turned up her nose at, although he was the richest. God knows why his was the only daughter in all of London who would chose to marry the jester, not the prince._

_It took every ounce of Wendy Darling's self-control not to roll her eyes at her father. "Besides a suspicious lack of hair and enthusiastic appreciation for alcohol?" Wendy crossed her arms and frowned into the fireplace. "I would simply DIE from boredom. I could more easily watch water boil for the rest of my life and still find it more entertaining than Sir Charles."_

She heaved a sigh and slid a silky dressing gown over her nightshirt, cinching it in at the waist. Marriage. No thank you: Wendy Darling had other plans.

Admittedly, her only other real plan was to avoid marriage for as long as possible. Already 19 years old, many of the conversations she had with her father played out the same way—the two of them butting heads over her personal life. Each argument hardened her resolve to do _something_ before she was forced to be tied down, although she had yet to figure out what that something was.

Wendy turned her eyes away from the window and scanned the old nursery. She felt a sudden pang of loneliness as her eyes grazed the old beds and ragged stuffed animals. Both John and Michael had left: John to University in Oxford and Michael to boarding school further in London. They visited whenever time permitted and wrote often, but still Wendy missed the understanding companionship they brought into her life. Oh she still had her friends, and the parties her parents dragged her to in order to meet young men were fun, but it wasn't quite the same. A profound longing for the _otherness_ in life was something Wendy felt more heavily as time passed by, and she knew her brothers were the only ones who truly understood that.

Well, Wendy supposed there could be other people who had travelled to Neverland, but she had yet to meet any. Talking of adventures with pirates, mermaids, fairies, and boys who never aged was not exactly polite dinner conversation. There was one time she had tried to explain the experience—it was to a young man a year earlier. He had attentively smiled and nodded at Wendy, encouraging her to go on with her stories. It was later during a dance when his hand slid down to cup Wendy's thigh that she decided her stories were wasted on men who clearly had suspicious motives.

Wendy gave her head a brief shake and mentally scolded herself. "You're far too old and sensible to still be thinking of that," she chastised. Wendy couldn't count the nights she had spent in this same window seat, watching the sky in hopes of seeing the silhouette of a flying boy, or maybe the shape of the Jolly Roger in the horizon. Her heart ached as she glanced one last time out of the window before leaving her seat—she could almost make out the ship's shape in the milky clouds tonight as well.

Wendy had thought she had grown out of daydreaming of a place she would never see again. Striding over to the mirror opposite the window, she made a face at the girl she saw there. The dressing gown emphasized that Wendy had indeed grown up—she had grown from the bean pole shape of her days in Neverland to a slender hourglass figure. The tight curls she suffered as a child had loosened into long waves, curving around a heart shaped face. Wendy desperately searched for the happy girl who had flown with the Lost Boys. Her mouth, she decided, was exactly the same: thin lips of a mother that easily curve in both pleasure and anger.

A sudden gust of wind from the window drew Wendy out of her inspection. Tightening her dressing gown over herself, Wendy crossed the room and started to draw the curtains when she felt the cool kiss of a steel point on her throat.


	2. Chapter 2

"Darling," a silky voice dripped. Wendy slowly followed the line of the blade at her throat to the source. Outside a dark figure sat carelessly on the window ledge and leaned against the outside wall of Wendy's house.

"What do you want?" she hissed, though it came out as an angry choke as she swallowed at the same time. The sword dipped with the motion, stroking her neck.

The figure chuckled. "Your manners astound me," Wendy saw white teeth flash in the darkness as the man—she could see his outline more clearly in the moonlight now—lowered the point of his sword to her heart. He gracefully stood up on the ledge and stepped out of the shadows, pushing Wendy further into the nursery with the light pressure of his sword as he advanced across the window and into the room.

Now fully in the moonlight, Wendy now could see the details of the intruder's appearance. Tall leather boots reached towards his knees, and a deep red coat draped carelessly down his sleek frame. A scabbard hung from a belt loosely fastened across his waist. His head dipped forward, so the wide black hat obscured his face.

"Right," Wendy muttered sarcastically, glaring nervously at the saber still pointed at her. "I suppose you've just come for a cup of tea. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Refinement at all times is the mark of a true lady," he replied dryly. "But I see time has betrayed you as well, Wendy."

Ready to spit in his face, Wendy was suddenly dry-mouthed as he raised his face to meet her eye. A young face—perhaps only a year or two older than Wendy herself—grinned at her in triumph. A face she recognized, but free of the lines of time and prolonged hatred. Smooth tanned skin stretched over refined cheekbones, only marred by two parallel scars reaching from the corner of his winged eyebrow to his fine chin. The dark eyes Wendy had feared as a 10 year old now glimmered darkly.

"Hook?" despite her fear, Wendy tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

The man lowered his blade a fraction and held up both arms. Attached to one wrist, a hand clasped the sword's hilt, attached at the other was… another hand?

"Not quite, Darling." He wiggled his fingers, then in a flash twirled around Wendy so he was behind her, this time his sword pressed lengthwise across her neck. "Enough. We can't waste any more time." His breath tickled the hairs around her ears, and he put a strong hand on her back, pushing her forward. Wendy squirmed in protest, but stopped as the blade's sharp edge pressed harder against her skin. "I have a new friend for you to meet, Wendy," he laughed triumphantly once more and he pushed her forward and up onto the window ledge.

Balancing precarious in the window, Wendy scanned the horizon to see what he meant. Nothing. Turning to throw back a snide reply, she instead felt a shriek tear out of her throat. Wendy gaped at the huge shadow floating above the elm trees that bordered the street.

A grand sailing ship hovered silently, its black sails rippling in the London breeze. The dark masts rose powerfully from a gleaming deck, and even in the dull moonlight Wendy could make out the words painted on the hull:

_Neptune's Bride_.


	3. Chapter 3

A series of cat calls and whistles greeted Wendy as Hook yanked her off the ladder and onto the deck beside him. A filthy crew of about a dozen men gathered around and ogled at Wendy, each elbowing each other and whispering amongst themselves.

Wendy shivered under their stares, but surprisingly not from fear. Wendy knew she should be frightened. Really, being the only woman on a ship of pirates was not exactly the highest caliber of security. All she could feel was a deep sense of disgust, with a twinge of curiosity. Abandoning all sense of propriety her mother had worked so hard to muzzle her with, Wendy stared openly at the men around her.

They were a motley bunch. Each wore articles of clothing from what Wendy guessed to be their various pillages: a tall man with a hawkish nose wore the vest of a nobleman with the breeches of a peasant. Another short, fat man had a powdered white wig draped over his doughy face and red nose. Wendy noted that with the exception of the short fat one, all were skinny and gaunt, their shirts hanging lankly on bony frames.

"Cap'n," the short one shouted, although he was but 3 feet away from Wendy's captor. "Ye found 'er eh!" He analyzed Wendy with his beady eyes, then quickly turned back to the captain. "Didna take yer long enough… when we made tha' port we tho't itda only be visin' for a for'nigh, not until tha' moon shone blue."

The Captain gripped Wendy's arm tightly, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "There were considerably more nurseries in London than I expected," he muttered.

Turning to the rest of the crew, the Captain took Wendy's hand in his own and raised them in the air. "Men!" he shouted. The crew went silent in anticipation. "I've brought us a prize! The rare Wendy-bird!"

The men cheered. "A lady on board!" one shouted joyously.

"Yes," the Captain lowered Wendy's hand and went gripped her wrist. "And what use can we put her too?" he asked the men, eyes glimmering.

The crew leered at Wendy. Some scrubbed their hands together, others made gestures that Wendy didn't understand, but she was sure they were rude. For the first time, a tingle of fear raced down her spine, and Wendy was suddenly extremely aware that she was only dressed in a nightshirt and dressing gown.

The Captain watched as Wendy fidgeted and shrunk away from the men's' hungry stares. "Right," he smirked at the girl, amused at the way she flinched. Her bravery so far was impressive, however foolish. "You'll be servicing the crew on this trip, Darling."

Wendy's eyes grew wide. "If you think—"

"No arguments," he shushed her. He flicked a side glance towards his men, then continued, "You'll be doing ALL of the cooking on this voyage, and that's final!"

The crew bellowed in laughter and Wendy let out a breath of relief she didn't know she had been holding. The Captain laughed and dragged Wendy away from the deck, down a set of stairs and through a heavy door. Wendy blinked in the darkness, trying to see where he had taken her.

"The _Bride___just so happens to have the finest kitchen to sail through the English skyline," the Captain freed his grip on Wendy's wrist and took off his hat in a flourish, releasing a swoop of chin length wavy black hair to frame his face.

Wendy surveyed the dark room. It had the necessities—wash bucket, hearth, pots and pans, knives and utensils— but not much more. A tiny table and stool were tucked in the corner of the room beside as squat door that Wendy guessed led to the pantry. She marched to the door, swung it open and saw that it _would_ be a pantry if there was any real food in. As it was, 3 jars of pickles and 4 bottles of rum were the only commodities present. "Extravagant." Wendy stated blandly, rubbing the wrist that he had gripped so tightly. "No wonder your men look so well fed."

"Manners," he chided. "We'll restock soon. Although I wouldn't mind seeing what you magic you could work with these." He grabbed a jar of pickles and a bottle of rum, put his hat back on his head and sauntered to the doorway. "Get ready to earn your keep, Darling," he tossed over his shoulder with a wink, and then he slammed the door shut.

Wendy stood in her prison, stunned. Rushing back to the door, she tried to yank it open only to find it was locked. She pressed her ear to the rough wood and heard muffled voices on the other side.

"New berth, Cap'n?" a man shouted.

"Yes," came the refined voice. "Take us home, boys."


	4. Chapter 4

"Not to seem rude," Wendy began politely, "but I seem to remember the trip taking considerably less time with Peter."

The Captain snapped his head away from the constellation chart he had been examining to frown darkly at the girl and the steaming mug in her extended hands. Wendy had been aboard _Neptune's Bride_ for two weeks, with nothing to do but cook endless meals and deliver sloshing mugs of rum and tea to the crew. At night she locked herself into a tiny cabin next to the kitchen and tried to sleep under the thin blanket she had found under the small cot. She was so restless that she was willing to complain to her captor himself.

"Of course," he spat. "Easy when you have special fairy friends with special fairy dust to waste on three mangy children." The ship suddenly dipped, and the Captain snatched the mug out of Wendy's hands just before she toppled to the floor.

"Maybe you should stop and ask for directions," Wendy suggested from her place on the floor. She had landed hard on her hip and elbow. She pushed herself up, wincing at the pain that shot through her muscles. The Captain took a bored sip from the mug. He winced as well.

"What good is a cook who can't cook?" he grimaced again.

"About as good as a Captain who can't navigate," Wendy snapped back. "And you're the one who requested that disgusting cocktail. And let's not forget that you _kidnapped_ me."

"Well next time I'll kidnap someone who knows a damn about food!"

Wendy angrily blew a rogue strand of hair out of her face. The Captain turned his back to her and stared dejectedly at his charts once more. "Well I'm glad you've brought that up," Wendy stomped to the desk and pushed the maps to the side. The two glared at each other, and Wendy ground out between clenched teeth, "You still haven't told me why I'm here."

"You're the one who brought it up," the Captain pointed out. "And you'll see soon enough."

"Not with the way you're sailing this thing," Wendy grumbled. "Honestly, how hard can it be to follow 'Second to the right and straight on 'til morning'?"

"Out," the Captain ordered, already opening another chart to spread on his desk. Wendy huffed and pivoted on her foot, then marched through the thick oak doors onto the deck of the ship.

The sun blazed golden in the evening hours, lighting the sea of clouds around _Neptune's Bride_ with a fiery glow. Wendy glanced over the side of the ship and immediately wished she hadn't. Between patches of cloud, shoppes and houses appeared no bigger than pebbles; buggies on the road were the size of ants. The sight made her dizzy. She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed the railing tightly.

"Any luck wi' the ol Cap'n?" a cheery voice asked.

Wendy turned and smiled at the source of the question. "About as much as I expected," she replied wryly. "Except he also insulted my cooking."

A teenager—Wendy guessed he was about 15 or 16 years old—slung himself onto the rail and perched happily on the edge. He let a foot dangle carelessly out of the ship, apparently unworried about the thousands of feet that separated them from the earth below. Tom had a constant joviality and boyishness about him that Wendy found soothing in her past weeks of captivity. His sandy-blonde hair was always sporting new cowlicks and his face always sprouting new freckles.

Tom laughed gaily. "Anythin' you can create is a thousan' times better than what we had before!"

"You're the one who did the cooking before."

"Exactly!" Tom laughed again. After the Captain had locked her in the kitchen, Tom was the one who had been the first to find Wendy and let her out. He had been so relieved that he was no longer responsible for the cooking that he had devoted himself to Wendy. Wendy also discovered that that hiding from the Captain and first mate was Tom's favourite game to play. There was hardly an hour that went by without Tom visiting Wendy and offering to cut vegetables and boil water or anything else that didn't require any skill.

"Shouldn't you be tying ropes or something?" Wendy reminded him.

Tom waved a hand carelessly. "Maybe when we start movin'. Cap'n's compasses usually point in the exactly wrong direction."

Wendy heard the slam of a door behind her, then felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"What did you say?" the Captain demanded.

The blood drained away from Tom's face. "Oh Cap'n… I—"

"Not you," he barked. The hand on Wendy's shoulder squeezed tighter. She craned her head up to look into his face, then immediately regretted the action. The Captain's dark eyes were set in an intense stare, one that Wendy felt scraping through her own eyes and into her very mind. "Say that thing again," he demanded, "the thing about the star."

"Second to the right and straight on 'til morning?"

"HAH!" the Captain suddenly slapped his thigh in triumph, chuckling gleefully. He plopped one hand on his narrow hips, the other he ran through his wavy hair. "I hate to say this, but I think you were right Wendy," he grinned at her and thumped her back happily.

"What?" Wendy was having a hard time keeping up with the sudden mood swings. She swiftly glanced at Tom, who simply shrugged and slid away. Probably to go hide in the kitchens again, Wendy thought mutinously.

"Asking for directions, of course," he explained, as if it were obvious.

"Of course," Wendy repeated, still confused.

The Captain ran back to his office, then immediately re-emerged holding, compasses and spyglasses, clearly forgetting Wendy's presence. He on his oversized hat, then marched to the middle of the deck.

"Second to the right and straight on 'til morning!" the Captain yelled at his crew. All of the men stared at him incomprehensibly. Some exchanged glances of confusion with each other.

The Captain sighed and tried again. "Men, we have a bearing! Second to the right and straight on 'til morning!"

Again, the crew stared vacantly. The Captain whirled on spot and raised an eyebrow at Wendy. "How much rum have you been handing out?" he demanded.

"I have n—"

"SMEE!" the Captain cut her off and turned to the fat man who was bouncing towards him. "Smee, would you care to translate my instructions to the men as I go man the helm?"

"Aye aye, Cap'n!" Smee cried. He burled back to the crew and wheezed out commands. "Hoist the aft an' bizzen randas! " Some of the men dashed off to climb the masts. Smee kept hurling out commands, until all the men were frantically running to their stations. "Keel to an' curry tha' muckers! Skallin' tha' 'fore port cresser! Hand ya' land lubbin' corka' wanks!"

Afraid of being run over by one of the crew, Wendy slipped up to the helm where the Captain stood in a glow of self-satisfaction. "And that works?" Wendy asked quietly, watching as Smee grew red in the face from yelling.

"Never talk to a pirate in plain English." the Captain said absently, stroking the polished wood of the wheel. "They'll never understand a thing you say."

Wendy felt the ship start to glide forward and she checked her balance to avoid another fall. "I thought," she mused, "you told me you weren't Hook."

The Captain smirked, though still watched his crew work. "And so I'm not."

"Smee is Hook's first mate," Wendy pointed out, her tone accusatory. She hadn't recognized the dumpy man at first, but there was no mistaking his bumbling walk and strange name. "And you look just like Hook. Well… a younger version of him anyways." And a version that has an extra hand, she added mentally.

"Fascinating." the Captain replied nonchalantly. "But things do have a habit of changing over time, Wendy."

The black masts suddenly filled with wind, and the ship lunged forward under Wendy's feet. As her balance was thrown for the second time, the Captain's arm snaked around Wendy's waist and she gasped as he steadied her against his side. "Hold on," he ordered, placing her hands on the spokes of the helm. "I forbid you from going overboard. You're still my prisoner."

The _Neptune's Bride _groaned as it raced faster and faster, upwards into the burning sky and towards the first stars of twilight.


	5. Chapter 5

"You can open your eyes now."

Wendy cracked open an eye, risking a glance around her. She was still frozen to the helm, though now she had wrapped her entire arms around it. The clear summer sunlight burned her eyes and she immediately snapped them shut again.

"Land ho!" came a chorus of shouts from the crew below.

"Unless you have the intention of steering the ship yourself, you'll have to let go Wendy," the Captain said wearily. He tapped her on the head, then proceeded to roughly push her aside after she ignored him.

"Hey!" Wendy snapped. The Captain pushed her away again as Wendy once more tried to fasten herself to her anchor. Suddenly Wendy felt her stomach roll, and she rushed to bend over the rail of the deck.

"Disgusting," the Captain grimaced when Wendy finished.

"I'm blaming it on your driving," Wendy muttered as she wiped off her mouth. A breeze of fresh air fluttered Wendy's clothing, making her shiver. The momentary discomfort was instantly forgotten, however, when she turned her back to the breeze and saw the land before her.

Salty sea-green waters with cheerful white capped waves lapped the side of the ship, and in the distance Wendy hungrily drank in the sight of a huge island. She imagined she could already see the shapes of mermaids bathing in the lagoon, hear the pounding of far off Native drums, and feel the heat of the Lost Boys campfires. She automatically scanned the sky to catch a glimpse of the figure of a flying boy, like she had for so many nights the past 9 years.

She was back.

"I never thought I'd see it again," she choked out a whisper, gripping the rail of the ship.

"You're still wearing that dressing gown."

The surprised tone of the Captain's voice brought Wendy out of the emotional moment. "I didn't exactly have time to pack a suitcase." she retorted. Turning, she felt heat rise to her cheeks as she watched the Captain analyze her thin clothing. "I've been in this the entire time."

"I didn't notice," he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Why didn't you take some of Tom's clothes?"

"Cap'n!" Smee cried. He scurried up the stairs to where Wendy and the Captain stood by the helm. "Weigh anchor or port a' Skull Rock

The Captain once again scratched his chin. He stared at Wendy, as if he was trying to weigh his options. Once more, Wendy felt uncomfortable under his gaze. "Make port, I believe," he said slowly. Smee nodded and began yelling orders to the crew once more.

"Right," the Captain said, straightening and grabbing one of Wendy's wrists. He towed her along behind him, but as the two of them got closer to his cabin door Wendy squawked in protest and wormed her wrist out of his grasp.

"Why do you always do that?" she asked, annoyed. Her arm was turning red with the imprint of his fingers. "Would you please just tell me for once where you're trying to take me?"

"We're going on land, and you need real clothes," he said impatiently. Again, he seized her wrist, but this time his grip was gentler. "And you're still my prisoner, so show a little respect."

Once inside his cabin, the Captain immediately started rummaging through a finely carved wardrobe. His preoccupation gave Wendy a chance to lean against one of the walls and peruse at her surroundings. It seemed that organization was not one of the Captain's strong points. All surfaces were covered with an assortment of treasures—oriental silk fans lined one wall, strings of exotic beads and coins hung in tangled loops off the side table, and a chest filled with jeweled trinkets had fallen open and scattered its contents at the base of the plush bed. Underneath the bed, Wendy spied a telltale sheen of fabric and—seeing the Captain was still busy looking for something—she pulled on the fabric and a billowy gown of the softest lace floated into her arms. Wendy studied the dress and felt herself grow more and more giddy. A fitted top tapered in at the waist and attached to full skirts the colour of fresh butter. Lightly embroidered flowers sprinkled the hemline, and a thick ribbon of sky blue looped around the waist as a sash. Wendy was rubbing the fabric between her fingers greedily when the Captain stood up with a triumphant exclamation of "Here we are!"

Wendy turned to him just in time to catch the bundle he tossed to her- a cotton tunic, belted breeches and soft leather boots. Hugging the clothes to her chest, Wendy couldn't help but watch sadly as the dress she had been holding fluttered to the ground. "What about—"

"That dress?" the Captain raised his eyebrows.

"It is beautiful," Wendy sighed.

The Captain shrugged. "Take it if you want it," he said. "But I wouldn't wear it around the men if I were you."

"Why not?"

"Came from a lovely prostitute I met while I was looking for you," the Captain walked through the door and closed it to give Wendy some privacy. "Feel free to take it if you want it. She seemed pretty willing to part with it," he called through the wood to her.

Ten minutes later, Wendy emerged from the cabin, the tunic tucked into the high-waisted breeches and thick leather belt cinched tight to keep them up.

"Didn't like the dress?" the Captain asked innocently.

Wendy's face burned. She had tried it on—she wasn't about to let a good dress go to waste—but the front of the corset had dipped obscenely low, displaying more cleavage than Wendy even knew she possessed. "It's a lovely dress," she sniffed at the man, raising her chin proudly.

The Captain laughed outright. "Saving it for a fine occasion, eh?" He laughed again as Wendy got more flustered, then pulled out a thick rope from behind his back and advanced towards her.


	6. Chapter 6

Wendy immediately sprang away from him. "Come on, Darling," the laughter that had just lit the Captain's eyes melted into to angry steel, and he flicked his hair out of his face. "I'm asking you nicely: give me your hands." His eyes followed Wendy as she edged around him, but he made no move to stop her.

"It does not sound like you're asking," Wendy argued. The Captain shifted his weight slightly, though he still looked relaxed.

Immediately Wendy tried to mentally calculate the best plan of escape. He would beat her in any fight, no doubt. None of the crew would help her if she went screaming to the deck—except maybe Tom, but he was just a boy. That left the hull- If she could reach the kitchen before he caught her, she could lock herself in and have enough food and water to wait until the men were forced to go on land, then she would swim to land herself and be free.

Mind made up, Wendy launched herself past the Captain and dashed for the stairs. She felt his fingers graze her hair, but she was beyond his reach before he could clamp down on anything to hold. Relieved to be wearing breeches, Wendy sprinted down the hall and another set of stairs. She heard his heavy breathing as if he were blowing right in her ear, then felt something large and solid strike her between the shoulders.

Wendy crumbled forward, smacked her head into one of the walls and felt the wind whoosh out of her lungs. Blinking away the black spots in her eyes, Wendy had rolled onto her back to pull herself up when a heavy weight pressed her to the ground again.

The Captain sat heavily on her torso, scowling angrily at her flushed face. A look past her right arm and at the Captain's left foot confirmed what Wendy had suspected—the Captain had taken off his boot and thrown it at her, knocking her down before she could make it all the way to the kitchen.

"Good one," she sneered, although the bite was taken out of her words as she gasped for breath.

"Aim over speed, especially when you're on a boat," he pushed his hair out of his face and snatched Wendy's arms, tying them together with the rough rope. After he had made sure all the knots were satisfactory, he took out a handkerchief. It was wrapped around a lumpy object that Wendy couldn't quite see, but the Captain quickly pocketed whatever was back into his coat and tied the fabric around her arm, gagging her into silence. Wendy tried to bite him and call him all sorts of unladylike things, but the fabric garbled her speech beyond comprehension.

"I think I might like you more, now that you're muzzled," the Captain said thoughtfully, pushing Wendy's hair away from her face. "I don't know why I didn't do this much earlier."

Wendy grumbled and climbed to her feet, an awkward process now that her hands were tied. The Captain took the long end of the rope and yanked on it, forcing Wendy to follow as if she was on a leash. He took her through the ship and back to the deck, where the men stared even more than usual. Wendy growled unhappily, glaring daggers at the Captain whenever he turned to make sure she was being cooperative.

"Prisoner," he reminded her, waving the end of the rope.

A few of the crew held a long boat steady against the side of the ship. As Wendy and the Captain approached, Smee and the tall, silent man with the hawk-nose climbed into the boat and pulled Wendy in, the Captain jumping up to join them after.

"Wait," he yelled when the crew began to lower the little boat. "Where's Tom?"

"Why ya' waitin' on tha' rat, Cap'n?" asked Smee, already playing with the end of an oar.

"Tom!" the Captain roared over the side of the ship. "Don't make come and find you!"

"Aye aye Cap'n!" came a cheerful shout in response. The boy appeared on the deck as if out of thin air and climbed onto the ship.

"Good!" the Captain clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Carry on men!"

Inch by inch, the longboat was eased into the water. The crew began rowing, and Wendy sat in angry silence, staring at the land ahead of her. As they drew nearer, Wendy felt more and more hopeful. Someone on land was bound to recognize her and help her, right? Surely not everyone has forgotten about her. Peter, the Lost Boys, and the Tribe were all still there, and Wendy was sure she could count on them for help.

Wendy wasn't the only eager one when the small crew climbed onto the sandy beach. As soon as the boat made contact with the coast, he leapt out with the rest of the crew and dragged the vessel on land. Wendy, still tied and gagged, wobbled as she stood on the boat, then carefully placed a foot on the land, savouring the feel of it.

_Neverland_

"PAN!" the Captain bellowed. He shouted at the forest in front of them, arms stretched out wide. "Come one Pan, we're all waiting!"

His invitation was met with silence.

"Cap'n, mayb' he didn' hear ya?" Tom piped up, grinning playfully.

"It's to be expected, Tom," the Captain sighed. "I would probably die of shock if he suddenly appeared that easily after all this time." Both men didn't see Wendy pull the gag down, hands bound but free now that the Captain had let go of her leash.

" 'After all this time?' How long has it been since you last saw him?" Wendy asked.

"I could try, Cap'n," Smee volunteered, ignoring Wendy. Already red faced, he started hollering, "Ye little girly is here, boy! Fly an' rescue 'er, ye shifty wind-lubbin' scum!"

"Eloquent as ever, Smee," the Captain rolled his eyes and turned back to the other people around him. Seeing the gag off of Wendy's mouth, the Captain moved it back into place. "We'll just have to go find him ourselves." The Captain turned towards Tom, who stared at the forest with a strange look on his face. "Tom, if you'd be so kind."

Tom's eyes cleared, and he grinned happily. "Aye, Cap'n!"

The slim boy marched to the head of the group importantly, head held high. Wendy at first thought it was a joke—letting the boy lead them on a wild goose chase. However, it appeared this was indeed to joke: the rest followed, with the Captain and Wendy tailing at the end. The group slunk into the forest, following the path that apparently only Tom could see.


	7. Chapter 7

**I would just like to give a huge thank you to those who have reviewed the story! I find it so encouraging to see that people are enjoying the story so far! Thanks so much friends!**

By the time they made camp for the night, Wendy's calves burned. Her gag was soaked with the grime of sweat and bile. Every inch of her face itched with the bites of a thousand mosquitoes. She was tired and sore, all made worse by the growing frustration she felt with herself.

As the men stacked old logs to build a bonfire, Wendy mentally reviewed her situation:  
It was obvious that the Captain was Hook—though why he refused to admit as much and where he got a new ship was beyond Wendy.  
She didn't know what he wanted with Peter.  
She didn't know why everyone thought Tom knew where he was.  
She didn't know where Peter was.

Wendy sighed and sat heavily on the ground. The Captain held the end of the rope loosely, providing just enough slack for Wendy to raise her hands to her mouth and pull off the disgusting handkerchief.

"Cheer up, Wendy!" Tom slid down to sit beside Wendy, happy to avoid the heavy lifting of the logs. "We'll find ol' Peter somewhere! We're only half a day from the Lagoon!"

"Tom," Wendy stared at him with serious eyes, her motherly mouth set in a stern line. "What are we doing? Why does the Captain need to find Peter so badly that he flew all the way to London to use me to lure him out?"

Tom leaned back, putting his weight on his elbows. "Alls I know, Cap'n thinks Peter can fix Neverland again, and Peter'll come if he knows you're with us."

"Fix it? Is it broken?"

"Yeah," Tom suddenly looked grave. "Everything is new. And old. Neverland is in a jumble. 'S why I gotta find Peter."

Wendy looked into Tom's freckled face. The young eyes seemed troubled. "And how are you the only one who knows how to find Peter?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Tom gave a start at the question. He looked shocked. "Wendy!" he gasped, pushing himself off his elbows. "I'd a thought you'd had it figured out!"

"Enlighten me," Wendy mumbled, trying to quell the rising irritation.

"You've forgotten! And I always thought a mother ne'er forgot her sons!"

"Mother?"

His former anxiety forgotten, Tom grinned cheekily. "Com'on Wendy! It's me, Nibs!"

Wendy frowned, trying to picture the smallest of the Lost Boys. She vaguely recalled a chubby boy of with big teeth, but time had obscured the memory. "Nibs?" she made a face, not believing the boy who sat beside her, nodding enthusiastically. "But things here don't age! You should still be a child!"

Tom threw his hands in the air. "Tha's what I've been tryin' to tell ya! Everythin' is jumbled, an' the Cap'n wants ta have it fixed!"

"And you think Peter can fix it?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. Cap'n thinks so though."

Wendy stared into the fire. Smee and the other man—Wendy appreciated the irony that his name was Hawkins- uncorked a bottle of rum and passed it around, singing a tuneless number about a siren and a sailor. The Captain was among them, though he drank less rum and sang slightly better than the rest. He caught Wendy staring at him and raised the bottle to her in a mock toast. At the same time, he gave the rope a slight yank.

"Why aren't you with the other Lost Boys?" Wendy turned towards Tom again. "Why are you part of Hook's crew?"

"Hook?" Tom raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Haven't heard tha' name in 9 years!"

"Not you too, Tom," Wendy groaned. "I've had it almost to here," she raised her hand to the height of her eyebrows, "with the ridiculous ambiguity."

"I don' know wha' tha' means, but I didn' say—"

"A toast!" cried Smee, cutting off their conversation. His face glowing red, the doughy man raised a fresh bottle of rum high in the air. "To tha' shrevi' an' mos' inte'geous Cap'n ta' sail tha' windy streams o'er London! Ye's an' rimmen to victor 'ighest an' honour! He'll na kipper tha' lad who tryna' tarn 'im a wee bairn an snickatt 'is shad!"

"Aye aye!" the Hawkins cried with fervor, raising his empty bottle and smacking it against Smee's.

"And to the finest crew a Captain could ask for," the Captain added, again met with enthusiastic cheers.

"And to a fine sleep!" Tom cried, jumping up from his place beside Wendy. The crew once again cheered, and then one by one Smee and Hawkins dropped to the ground, sleep and alcohol overtaking them. Tom smiled at Wendy and went to join them, taking his pack and turning it into a pillow.

The Captain walked over to where Wendy remained seated and sat down in the spot Tom had previously occupied. "You too, Darling."

Wendy sniffed. "Maybe with a bit more privacy."

The Captain threw back his head and laughed. "What do you need privacy for? Trust me, Darling, you'll want to keep your clothes on, if not just to keep the bugs at bay."

Wendy immediately turned red. "Of course I wouldn't—what are you doing?"

The Captain had taken his end of the rope and was tying it around one of his own wrists. "Making sure you don't sneak off, of course!"

"Of course," Wendy murmured. She scooted as far away as the rope would allow and lay with on her back. The rocks and roots in the ground dug painfully into her body, irritating the bruises that speckled her skin. Wendy rolled onto her side. Again, the hard ground pressed against the sore parts of her body that she had fallen on earlier on the _Bride_. Finally, she flopped onto her stomach and closed her eyes.

"Would you kindly stop?" the Captain whispered loudly through the darkness. "I wouldn't mind catching a wink before sunrise."

"I believe a certain boot-shaped bruise on my back is making this a bit difficult," Wendy whispered back.

"A well-aimed and well-deserved boot-print, I believe." Wendy felt a gentle tug on the rope. "Go to sleep, Darling," the Captain ordered.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this has been such a long time coming! Thanks Rose Wrytes, Edna, and everyone else who reviewed! I love feedback Woohoo! **  
**I realize this story has kind of a trippy/off-kilter quality, but hey... it's Neverland! **

**Thanks again for reading!**

Chapter 8

This was all wrong.

At noon, Tom announced that they were on the rim of the lagoon and that it wouldn't be long before they would be speaking to the mermaids. Wendy remembered Mermaid Lagoon as a mysterious paradise. She remembered the gleaming waterfall and rocks glowing with moss. She remembered the mermaids as vivacious and seductive temptresses.

Certainly this was not the right place.

The group of travellers stood around the most depressing bog Wendy had ever seen. Skeletal trees outlined stagnant, yellow waters. Ashy rocks rose out of the muck and cut off all view of the sky, only allowing a trickle of water to reach out to the sea, one finger of land extending to the middle of the murky bay. Thick fog clung to the brown reeds and swallowed Wendy as she advanced with the group. She shuddered as its cold fingers stroked her skin with trails of cool despair.

"This can't be it…" Wendy trailed off, staring into the dark waters.

Tom turned towards the Captain and addressed him, "The mermaids might know, ye just gotta ask 'em nicely."

The Captain clucked his tongue. Together, they all climbed onto the damp rocky ledge and slowly advanced down the narrow rock bridge to the center of the bog. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the mist, the only sound other than the soft whispering of the reeds all around them.

The Captain took off his hat and pulled out a strand of coins- Wendy recognized it from his quarters on the ship. Balling it into his fist, he looked turned to his crew. "Men, form a tight circle around the Wendy-bird," the Captain ordered firmly.

Wendy rolled her eyes and didn't bother protesting. Really, as if she would try to run away when she was in a bog in the middle of nowhere, with no idea how long it would take for her to find another living person. The men bumped up around Wendy, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose from the smell.

The Captain turned back to the water and stared intensely into the cloudy depths. Finally he knelt to one knee and held out a hand. A string shining coins dangled from his fingers down to skim the water's surface.

The silence around the group was deafening. The Captain stayed kneeling, not daring to move a muscle.

Wendy was starting to feel a sneeze come on when she spotted an almost imperceptible ripple roll along the water's surface. She pinched Tom and pointed to it. He followed her finger, then gulped softly.

Two ripples, forming a V, slowly eased towards the Captain. A dull, scaly hand flashed out of the water and snatched the string, but the Captain kept his grasp tight. He pulled as the dirty hand gripped the coins, and a body rose out of the water.

Wendy had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing correctly, or if it was a trick of the fog. The mermaid, who still held onto the coins, had long, stringy hair the colour of water weeds. It hung limply over a gaunt face. Her cheeks were hollow, and her scaly skin dull looking. The long fins of her tail were straggly and torn, waving limply in the muddy water.

The Captain and the mermaid stared at each other. "Can you tell me where to find Pan?" the Captain said in a low voice.

The mermaid narrowed her eyes slightly. "Pan," she spat as she said the name. "What have you brought?"

The Captain jiggled the coins between them.

The mermaid stared at him. "Not enough. You have more."

"There is no more," he frowned, but Wendy saw his hand slide to his pocket protectively.

"I smell the steel," the mermaid hissed. "Taste the blood." Her eyes slowly slid down his coat to the pocket he was protecting. "It's the price."

The Captain's nostrils flared. He slowly inched his hand out of the pocket, holding the treasure in a clenched fist.

"Cap'n! No!" gasped Smee. "Ye've put so much lovin' an' carin' an—"

"Quiet, Smee," the Captain commanded. Still glaring at the mermaid, he tossed dropped the package into her outstretched hand. "Now tell me," he whispered harshly.

The mermaid smiled darkly. "East. Through the orphaned forest flying under the wh—"

A soft breeze blew past Wendy onto the lake ahead of them, and instantly the mermaid stopped in midsentence. Her head snapped to directly where Wendy stood hidden by the circle of men, her pupils shrunken to pinpoints and her blue lips curled to reveal needle-like teeth.

"GO!" the Captain barked at the cluster of people. Wendy felt herself flick mentally into survival mode and immediately elbowed past the men and broke into a run. On either side of the rocky ledge, small bumps broke the water's surface. They advanced and rose towards Wendy as she ran, revealing the snarling faces of more water creatures. One arm snaked out of the water to grab her ankle, but Wendy heard the cry of a gunshot and the arm fell away.

Nearly back to the safety of the forest cover, Wendy had slowed just a fraction when something leapt directly in front of her. Wendy skidded to a stop and watched in horror as the mermaid used her arms to drag herself towards Wendy. Another gun shot, and the mermaid flopped to the ground, black blood oozing out of the ragged hole in her chest.

Jumping over the body and into the forest, Wendy leaned against a tree as she tried to gain her breath. The crew members came soon after, with the Captain at the end, grimly gripping a smoking pistol.

"Looks like they didn't forget you," the Captain said dryly, tucking the pistol back into his belt.

Between gasps, Tom explained, "Mermaids don' really like tha' women folk. Jus' more competition, yea?"

"Stupid," Wendy murmured. "We could have all been killed!"

"Forgetting my aim?" the Captain reminded her.

Wendy grit her teeth together. For someone who had just escaped the watery jaws of death, he was in a remarkably good mood.

The Captain surveyed the group. Smee was doubled over and panting, while Tom and Hawkins wiped sweat off their brows and straightening their twisted clothes. Wendy's fingers trembled slightly, but she tried to busy them by pushing her long brown hair away from her face and onto one shoulder, picking at the damp curls that plastered to her forehead.

The Captain smiled cheerily at them and propped his hands on his hips. "Who's ready to go on another walk?"


End file.
